I think Twilight is hiding something from me. Every time I visit she’s a very gracious hostess; she asks what I’d like to drink and finds some way to entertain me if the cause of visit isn’t apparent. It’s quite formal, too much so even for me. She has my favourite coffee and a very relevant topic to bring to my attention within a very reasonable amount of time from when I enter her home. It’s nice and all, but superficial. To my knowledge, we are friends and I’m dropping in on her because I enjoy her company, so why treat me like a dinner guest?

I appreciate her more and more as we go on about the same strangeness that seems to plague both our lives. After the ceremony and her most recent scientific topic or musing to share, she becomes much more like the friend I truly care for: a snarkier academic with a chip on her shoulder, and also in possession of the heart of an artist. It’s at these points where our talks on life become something I wouldn’t trade the world for.

She gets it. Somehow the thing that makes us all so special, the ability to think and reason, becomes our undoing in the end. I know I think too much. I over-analyze how much I over-analyze. And you know what? I never thought I’d meet another pony like me. I don’t wish it on anyone, but I’m glad Twilight can look me in the eye and tell me how she feels.

I want that Twilight, not her weird, lets-pretend-like-we’re-doing-what-she-thinks-every-other-social-pony-does persona. Today, I found the bothersome feeling of being treated like a friendly acquaintance or academic peer to be too much. The last thing I need in this growing weirdness and detachment from life is my one confidant becoming estranged to me. I don’t think she understands how much I look forward to our talks.

Let me elaborate. Recently my thoughts on my art, and caffeine intake, had made me too hazy to help my sister with her homework, and that has never happened before. Even Sweetie Belle asked me if I’d be going to see Twilight today. That didn’t help my mood because now my little sister is beginning to see I’m not so stable. When I was a child, the adults I knew didn’t have such a thin veil to their problems, and I don’t want to trouble such a young one with anything but total security. I should have all the answers for her, and not be either crying myself to sleep each night or simply not sleeping.

But I digress. I wanted to talk with Twilight about these personal things without needing to mull over the latest fashion news that happened to reach Twilight’s ear for a half hour. I live, eat, and breathe fashion, and sometimes I wonder if Twilight thinks that’s all I care about. It isn’t, and I need to get my real feelings out. I thought that if I broke the little ceremony in an unobtrusive way I could show her that we’re good friends and that we don’t need to put on facades, ever.

So, when she asked me what I’d like to drink, I told her that I could fetch it myself. There was a moment of puzzlement on her face. She said it wasn’t proper to have a guest get her own refreshments, but I’d heard that one before and followed her into the kitchen anyway.

I saw her briskly putting away a bag of coffee beans with a big label on it that read “Rarity’s Favourite”. There was also a fashion magazine on the table with the same label. I glanced at it for only a moment though, and Twilight probably assumed I didn’t see it.

It was heartbreaking in the most unusual way. I’d never think Twilight to be so simple, or to believe me so simple. Were there magazines on sports somewhere hidden with “Rainbow Dash’s Favourite” labeled onto it? Maybe a nature magazine and box of teabags for Fluttershy?

She insisted that we go out instead. I agreed, and the entire time I felt like I was talking to a stranger. It was disheartening, so much so that I feigned illness to come home early. It’s easier to sit on an upset stomach at home.

My head is hazy still, but I regret not staying out. I want to understand my friend and why she does the things she does. Next Chapter: note four of twenty-nine Estimated time remaining: 20 Minutes